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John Payne (Джон Пейн)


November


THE tale of wake is told; the stage is bare,
The curtain falls upon the ended play;
November's fogs arise, to hide away
The withered wrack* of that which was so fair:     [ruin]
Summer is gone to be with things that were.
The sun is fallen from his ancient sway;
The night primaeval trenches* on the day:     [encroaches] upon
Without, the Winter waits upon the stair.
Stern herald of the wintry wrath to come,
The mist-month treads upon October's feet,
Muting the small birds' songs, the insects' hum,
And all involving in its winding-sheet,
'Graves on the frontal of the failing year,
"All hope abandon, ye who enter here!"



John Payne's other poems:
  1. The Foredawn Hour
  2. July
  3. August
  4. September
  5. October


Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • John Clare (Джон Клэр) November ("The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon")
  • Hartley Coleridge (Хартли Кольридж) November ("THE mellow year is hasting to its close")
  • Robert Binyon (Роберт Биньон) November ("Together we laughed and talked in the warm--lit room")
  • Frederick Tuckerman (Фредерик Такерман) November ("Oh! who is there of us that has not felt")

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